


London Vampire

by Fearless_leaderr



Category: London Spy, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Magnus as Scotty, Raphael as Alex, Simon as danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6863119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearless_leaderr/pseuds/Fearless_leaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't know me, but if you did, you'd know I'm always fine."</p><p>It's what he tells everyone, it's what he tells himself. He's fine, even if he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> So, the entire fic is basically inspired by London Spy. The characters really reminded me of Simon and Raphael, and so thus this tragedy came into play.
> 
> It's still set in London because a) I don't know what any of the Rivers in Brooklyn are called and b) I'm lazy

Simon hates early morning. It's a void time- everyone's going home or is still in bed. They say London never sleeps, but that's a lie. It does, and only he seems to remain awake, still feeling wired from the night before.

He wanders the streets aimlessly, dragging his jacket and guitar case behind him. The jacket stinks of alcohol (a girl had tripped and spilled her drink on him) and the case smells of someone more potent (mainly weed, mixed with a little coke.)

His wandering's take him to the London bridge, the Thames sloshing underneath him in a way that's almost memorising. Shakily he leans against the barrier and drops the case at his feet, giving himself a moment to simply allow the cool morning air to settle against him clammy skin.

Then, with trembling hands, he pulls out his phone and tries his contact list. He starts with old school friends, swiftly followed by his band. As suspected, no one wants to come out. They never do anymore- they've all moved on with their life's and grown up. Sighing he pinches the bridge of his nose and tries his final number.

Clary picks up on the third ring, her voice thick as it filters through the speaker. He's woken her up.

"Simon? Are you okay?" She asks sleepily, and he can hear the rustling noise of her pulling back the covers and getting out of bed. He can hear Jace protest in the background, asking her what's wrong. And he can hear her say only his name in response, like he's a problem so often that they don't even have to discuss it anymore.

Guilt claws at his throat and shame colours his cheek and he sucks in a breath, blinking rapidly as unwarranted tears form in his eyes.

"I'm fine. Sorry. Butt dialled you, you know?" He responds slowly, his voice pitched low.

By her sigh he knows that she knows that he's lying, and he can't face that. Not right now.

"Got to go. Go back to bed, Clary."

"Simon.."

"Bye," and with that, he ends the call, gripping the phone in his hand and trembling against the wind.

A few seconds later the phone rings and he can't, he just can't right now. He raises his hand, intending to throw it into the river, but instead it slips through his grasp and shatters against the ground with a clatter that makes him flinch.

Sighing he bends down to collect the pieces, and is so surprised when another set of hands join him to pick up the broken glass and plastic that he stops moving, effectively letting the stranger finish what he started.

Said stranger straightens then, and his dark eyes seem to look into Simons very soul. There's no denying that the man's very attractive. He has skin that's both golden and pale at the same time, which contrasts with his dark hair, that seems to lay in curls against his head. He's in basic jogging gear- a pair of sweats and a long jumper, damp at the top with sweat.

The silence must go on longer than he thought- or his trembling fingers and glazed eyes gave him away- because the jogger actually looks concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and Simon almost laughs.

Instead he nods instantly- instinctively- and gives a shaky smile.

"I'm fine," he responds, watching this stranger watch him. 

There's another moment of silence where the man looks utterly unconvinced, and he slowly procures a plastic water pouch, titling it forward for him to take.

Simon does take it, a small smile working its way onto his face which is a little less fake. 

"You don't know me, but if you did, you'd know I'm always fine."

It's what he always tells everyone, it's what he always tells himself. He's fine, even if he's not.

There's yet again another moment of aching silence, and Simon hates silence. He's about to fill it when a hand moves in his peripheral vision. He watches as the stranger tenderly reaches forward and touches a bead of sweat on his jaw, looking mesmerised.

And then, as quickly as he comes, the jogger is on his feet again, face aflame and looking horrified. He turns his back on him and is running, and Simon frowns, instinctively wanting him to stay.

"What about your drink?" He calls after the running mans back, and he feels unjust disappointment settle in his stomach when the dark haired stranger doesn't slow, but instead shouts:

"You can keep it!"

Simon remains rooted to the spot in shock, and feels something stirring in his mind.

In the following week, thoughts of the stranger with the big brown concerned eyes don't fade.

\---

Call it a hunch, but when he stands on the steps of the bridge one week later, he isn't entirely surprised when he see's the same stranger jogging towards him. He had thought about standing out there during the day, but something about that didn't feel right. No one takes runs at 4am unless it's a habit. He smiles and makes his way over to the man as he slows, holding out the empty drinking pouch like an offering.

"I wanted to say thank you. Which I didn't get to say... last time." He rambles happily, shaking the bottle in emphasis.

The stranger eyes him, and then the plastic in his hand, his eyebrows quirking and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He takes it, and their hands brush together momentarily, making his heart stutter in his chest. 

"Walk with me?" He asks, and the stranger nods.

The walks mostly silent, only being filled with Simons own nervous chatter. He hates silences, they make him weirdly nervous. And so he talks about everything and nothing, trying to pull the stranger into a conversation. He only succeeds sometimes.

It's only after half an hour of pleasantries that his curiosity bubbles over and he basically shoves the man out of the closet he's put him in. He doesn't mean to, but Simon prides himself on having a pretty accurate gay-dar, and it screams around tall, dark and handsome. 

"I've just had a... a hunch. Sometimes you have to take a chance, right? Otherwise, how do you know?" He trails off, glancing at the strangers confused face and giggles nervously. "Obviously I got this wrong. Oh sorry." Again he laughs, holding out his hand.

"My name's Simon." 

The other man looks at his hand for a moment, considering it, and for a terrifying moment he's afraid he's got this all wrong and the strangers going to run away again. But no, finally the man reaches out and clasps his hand, his lips quirking.

"My name is Elliot" he responds, and Simon has a strange feeling that it's a lie, but he chooses not to comment on it. At least he can call him something other than hot jogger now.

"So Elliot, are you... Are..." He trails of yet again, feeling unusually nervous. If he's read this wrong then he could fuck this entire thing up. Straight men don't usually take well to being called gay.

"I've run out of questions." He adds then, lying through his teeth. God, he needs a damn cigarette.

But whilst he searches for something to say Elliot's stopped walking, his face suddenly serious.

"Ask me. Please." He pleads, looking entirely determined. 

Simon gapes for a moment and then gathers his courage up again, lowering his gaze so he can look the dark haired man into the eyes. 

"Are you out?" He asks, and suddenly the question feels stupid. He's not going to force a virtual stranger out the closet if he doesn't want to.

But Elliot doesn't look angry at all. He just looks slightly embarrassed, a flush falling over his cheeks.

"No. If you want to go, I can understand that reaction."

Simon almost blanches at that. Why would he want to go just because Elliot's not out? That doesn't make any sense to him. But the way the others shoulders are tensed indicate that it makes sense to him, so he drops his hand to the others arm gently, reassuringly.

"I don't want to go." He says immediately, and they both share their first real smiles.

\---

They go back to Elliot's apartment. No, correction-they go back to Elliot's freaking hotel floor. His mouth falls open as he enters the building, taking in the red carpets and the Persian rugs and the carved walls and the gold tables.

It must stay that way, because Elliot looks back at him, a sheepish look gracing his face.

"I work night shift for a blood research facility" the other begins to explain, waving his hands slightly.

"It's their hotel, they just like their researchers to be in the same place. Security is a concern" he adds, shrugging as if it's nothing.

If possible Simons eyebrows raise even more at that gesture and he almost laughs out loud. He doesn't know how it happened, but he's apparently just met someone rich enough to shrug at the very idea of living in a fucking hotel. In comparison, he must seem to live in a slum.

He suddenly feels a wave of self-consciousness and looks down at his ratty vans, wriggling his toes against the white canvas material. His inner self loathing is interrupted by Elliot clearing his throat, and he looks up again quickly.

"There's a terrace...if you want to smoke, I mean." The other says softly, gesturing to the large double doors to their left. Simon turns to look at them, observing the darkness of the night out of the window.

"I'm going to take a shower," the other man quickly adds a moment later, and then he's gone, disappearing down the hallway like a ghost in fog.

Simon watches him go, and feels his curiosity sky-rocketing. Elliot must work for someone really important, if their staff get an entire hotel as accommodation. In fact, he realised the man leaves a lot out of their conversations. He mulls it over as he pushes the door open and lights a cigarette, staring at the twinkling lights of London from his vantage point. As the smoke dances around him like a silver veil, he decides it's definitely worth the wait to find out.

\---

The restaurant is fancy and everyone is wearing suits and Simon feels completely out of his depth.

The menu in front of his begins (begins!!) with two digit numbers, and crosses over into three digit numbers. He swallows thickly and reaches up to pull on the collar of his shirt, loosening it off slightly.

He's wondering how he can subtly get away with just ordering bread for his meal when Elliot clears his throat.

"I can pay," the other informs him, and he almost instinctively shakes his head.

"No! It's fine. I'm.." He begins quickly, before he sees Elliot's completely reassuring face and he deflates, putting the menu on the table.

"I must be easy to read," he mutters, laughing slightly. He doesn't know whether it's in embarrassment of thankfulness, but it sounds slightly self-deprecating.

"You are" the older man replies instantly, his mouth quirking up into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. Simon feels his heart begin to thud against his rib cage.

"Is it that bad?" He asks lightly, taking a sip from his water to give himself something to do other than stare.

Elliot shakes his head. "Makes a change. The people I work with... are inscrutable."

Suddenly interested, Simon leans forward on his elbows, wondering if this is the moment where he finds more about Elliot and what he does.

"I can be inscrutable," he replies slyly, waggling his eyebrows and smirking.

This earns him an appraising look, and the other man smiles before taking a sip of his drink and swiftly changing the subject. 

Eternally Simon sighs- he guesses that there are just some things that people have to keep to themselves. 

\---

He waits twenty for Magnus to get out of the Pandemonium , instantly linking arms with his old friend as they walk away from the club. He loves Magnus, values his company and the wizened advice that comes with it, even though the other man is only slightly older than he. They walk in silence for a while until the other man breaks it, turning to face him. 

"Has he rung?" The other asks brazenly, his eyes sharp and almost cat like as they observe him.

"He will," he responds instantly- he's never been so sure of something in his life. He feels it. He feels it in his very soul. This one, this ones a good one. Keep this one.

Magnus rolls his eyes at that, and Simon pouts in response.

"A week?" The older man asks, and it's a reminder. A warning. It says 'don't you go down this path again after only seven days. Be careful'

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life" he says, strong and sure. And he knows that's a lie- it's still early stages and he has thought he's found the one before. But something about Elliot stirs something inside him- something in his very core.

Magnus sighs then and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the artfully places waves. And when pulls his hand out, glitter floats to the floor like sparkly rain.

"You love falling in love. The moment when it's all possibilities and dreams" he responds, and it sounds only slightly cynical. Magnus and he have much the same experiences when it comes to love, which just so happens to be completely shitty. He's had countless boyfriends who all leave within the months end- violently or not. And Magnus has had one serious relationship and a string of lovers, all of which stomped of his heart that he bared for them.

They laps into another silence, simply giving each other a moment to think.

"You think he's out of my league?" He blurts as soon as the thought crosses his mind, and he squeezes the others leather clad arm.

"The thought never crossed my mind" Magnus replies instantly, looking slightly scandalised. 

If anyone's going to tell him the blunt truth then it's his best friend, so he relaxes then, urging his beating heart to calm down.

"Where are we going to drink tonight?" He asks then, feeling simultaneously light and like he needs a drink immediately. 

"Somewhere dimly lit and terribly old-fashioned." Is the others sly reply, and they share a smile.

\---

"So we're on the doorstep, saying goodbye and I'm trying to give him Clary's number, because I don't have a phone. Except he doesn't write it down! And I'm like 'If you don't want to. If you don't want see me again.' And then he says, 'numbers Simon, I have no problem with,' like he could remember every phone number in the world." Simon pauses then so he can breath, gesturing wildly as he pouts at Magnus. 

"and then...we shook hands! If you'd have told me a week ago I'd be this happy with a handshake at the end of a date" he trails off again, aware he's been rambling but unable to stop himself. He's just so damn enchanted but Elliot, with his sweet gestures and stunning smile and bashful nature.

"I'm sorry, I will stop talking about him now." He adds sheepishly, reaching out in front of him to take his glass and take a sip. 

Magnus chuckles at him and waves away his concern. "It's alright. I understand" the other reassures him, patting his knee kindly.

Simon beams.

"It's just the feeling, you know? Not being able to think about anyone else" he murmurs dreamily, bracing his arms on the table and resting his head on them.

Magnus smiles at that. 

"Yeah, I know the feeling ," he answers softly. His gaze fixates on something across bar and Simon frowns as he follows the gaze.

Sitting on a stool is Alec Lightwood, sipping a drink and pretending to listen to whatever the person next to him is saying.

He looks back at Magnus, sees the look of longing on his eyes and sighs.

He guesses they'll both be peeling each other off the floor in the morning.

\---

What Simon has discovered is that Elliot really doesn't like going out during the day. No, that's not really it. It's that Elliot is far too tired to go out during the day. Nightshift drains him completely, and he sleeps like a log from sundown to sunrise. Simon thinks it must really suck to have a body clock like that, but the other man seems happy enough.

It's lucky that he actually prefers night to day anyway.

Like now, for instance. They're on a date right now- a hike to be more specific. Elliot really enjoys walking, and so he follows him as much as his smokers lungs can keep up.

They walk in relative silence, and despite himself, Simon keeps quiet, simply listening to the older man's breathing beside him.

They walk over green hills and scale rocky terrain until they finally reach a pebble beach, practically deserted in the cold weather.

"This is us," Elliot supplies unnecessarily, gesturing out the the grey water which a small smile on his face. He's enjoying himself.

"So grown-up. You drink tea out of a thermos, and you go country walks," Simon teases light heartedly, picking up a stone to throw into the water.

"I must seem young compared to the people you work with," he adds a moment later, wincing internally. He knows talking about Elliot's work is a no go zone, and that he's not supposed to. 'That's not technically talking about it work, right? It's talking about the people' he tells himself.

But surprisingly the other doesn't immediately change the subject, but instead replies, "You do."

Surprised, but all round pleased that Elliot's devolved a little more of himself, Simon steps towards him. 

"You're not joking, are you?" He asks, trying to gauge the man's emotions.

"I started university when I was 15," is the others response, and this time Simon does blanch. Fifteen?? He's apparently been dating a fucking genius without knowing. But at the same time, that's such a young age to grow up at. It's sort of sad, that Elliot's clearly not been able to experience life the it's full potential. What about the parties? What about the music? What about the other men?

Following that particular train of thought, he blurts out , "So you never messed around?"

Instantly he wants to smack his head with his palm, but when he looks at Elliot the other doesn't look offended, just confused.

"In what sense?" The other asks, and Simon feels slightly guilty. Elliot's so innocent, and he wonders what force attracted that innocence to his own temple of sin.

"Any sense," he replies reassuringly, letting him know that he doesn't have to discuss sex right now. That's a bit forward, considering they've only been on a few dates and Elliot really does seem like the courting type of man. It's strange, he's never been courted before.

Said man sighs and looks out to the sea, running a hand through his hair. It's styled today, and only a single curl blows sadly in the wind. 

"I've been serious for a very long time" is what Elliot replies with, turning back to face him.

"What made you change your mind? About me?" Simon asks, and suddenly it's the most important question in the world. He takes a few steps forward to he can look at the others expression and waits.

There's a moment of silence where Elliot looks slightly embarrassed, the he sighs and deflates, looking nothing but slightly sad.

"I wondered what it would be like to do these walks with someone," he admits quietly, turning his head back to the water and staring. The moon light dances off of his hair and creates illuminated shadows on his face, emphasising his striking features.

Simon thinks he's quite possible the most beautiful man he's even seen in his life.

"I was worried that you were going to say it was because I made you laugh," he said, relieved, running up a small hill so he's standing on top. 

"I don't think you've ever made me laugh." Elliot shouts up to him, before physically wincing. Simon almost laughs, he has obviously not done this whole dating thing often. 

"It's not that you won't..." The other adds quickly, clearly searching for something else to add. He takes pity on the man and jumps down from the hill, raising his hands reassuringly.

"I understand," he replies softly, smiling a little. If the man doesn't laugh a lot then that's fine, but he will make it his mission to draw laughter out of him at some point. And when he does, he will crown himself victorious.

Whilst Elliot mulls that over Simon busies himself on jumping up onto the posts of a missing peer top, trying to (and horribly failing) to balance himself on the thin strip of wood supporting the posts. 

"So you turn up, on my doorstep, which is wonderful by the way! Except I never told you where I live, and I was wondering - and I should say in advance that I don't mind - but... Did you carry out some kind of background check on me?" 

It's an honest question, one that's been bothering him for a while. He's not angry, just curious.

Elliot shifts then, and looks both guilty and defensive. Simon hates that he brought it up.

"The way we met was unusual," the other replies slowly, and Simon nods. Yeah, he gets that. If someone had waited for him to turn up based purely on a hunch then he'd wonder what type of person that stranger truly was.

"Right. So... You thought Stranger! Seduction! Not that, erm, I'm presuming you were seduced by me. That's, erm, a process ongoing..." He trails off then, clearing his throat as his cheeks flush. 

"Erm, what was I saying? Um yeah, so you thought, our meeting was part of... A set-up? It's fine. It's fun. I just, I thought you said I was easy to read?"

"That would have been the reason you were selected. The appearance of innocence." Is Elliot's instant reply, and Simon wrinkles his nose in offence. 

"I'm not innocent," he mutters sullenly, thus making himself appear even more like a child. Good one.

Elliot simply looks vaguely amused, coming to stand beside the peer and watch him.

"You might be the only innocent person I know," he supplies ominously, and that's it, Simon's going to discover where this guy works, no matter how long it takes. 

"Can you tell me what your real name is now?" He asks then, and he steps onto a post so he can stop moving, turning to face the other. There's a moment of silence where he's afraid he's read the moment wrong and asked and the wrong time, but the other simply nods.

"My name is Raphael Garroway" he replies simply, and Simon beams.

\---

Simon has literally just woken up when the door goes. He groans, and considers Ignoring it, but last time he had done that Clary had nearly kicked the door down and woke up the entire block. Sighing he drags himself out of bed, clad in nothing but his boxers. He kicks an empty can on the way past and blearily opens the door, intending to send away the person on the other side.

It's Raphael.

He gapes at the man, seeing he's clad in his work clothes, before realising he's just standing there. He opens the door in invitation and steps back, allowing the other in.

"It's normally tidier than this" he begins, gesturing the the mess around him, before snorting.

"It's never tidier than this," he amends chuckling slightly as the other man looks around. Raphael looks nervous, for some reason, leaned up against his door frame and biting his lip slightly. His eyes keep darting to Simons bed, then back to his face, and oh.

Oh!

He slowly walks forward, taking the others hand in his own and letting him initiate the kiss.

Simon feels all air disappear from his lung as the others lips touch his and he hums happily, dragging his hands through Raphael's hair and pushing them onto the bed.

\---

They don't last long. Everything starts off fine, albeit hesitantly. Raphael never quite seems to know where to put his hands, and is entirely surprised when Simon very slowly sticks his hand down his suit trousers, bucking his hips up instantly. After that however, everything begins to freeze up. Raphael is too tense-too tight- and even one finger is hurting him. They stop when the other sits up, his face burning in shame and embarrassment, and Simon rolls up too so he can rub his shoulders reassuringly.

"It's okay" he promises, working the knots out of the other man's neck.

"Take a bath. I promise it'll help you feel better."

And so whilst Raphael busies himself with pouring a bath he gets dressed, only making his way into the bathroom when he hears the other settle into the water. 

He himself sits on the ground by the tub, facing the smaller man and leaning his arms on the side so he can rest his head on them. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a while whilst Raphael ducks under the water, and Simons surprised when it's the other man who breaks the silence, not him. 

"Had you guessed?" Raphael asks lowly, and Simon nods. 

"I'd guessed you hadn't slept with guys before. I thought maybe you'd slept with a couple of women. Can I ask you a question?"

Raphael nods yes. 

"What's stopped you?" You don't have to answer."

There's a moment of silence where Raphael bites his lip, and Simon thinks that he isn't going to talk, but the other sighs and lowers his head.

"How do you admit to someone you've never been in a relationship? Who wants to hear? And when they do, who wants to stay?"

It's such a sad question, and paired with the devastated look on the others face, Simon can't take it. He reaches forward slowly and takes the others hand, holding it in his own.

"I do," he says firmly, putting as much meaning into the two words as he possibly can. He does want to stay, he wants to stay forever with Raphael.

This response gains him ablink and you'll miss it smile, but still a smile non the less.

Simon counts it as a victory.

"At school I was old. At university I was young. I've always been like a statue to people around me- I'm just here. In the end, I left it so late... I gave up. I told myself I was all about the mind. And most mund...people find me weird. It grated on me. I could see it in their eyes. Rather than change, I started playing the role, more and more. I didn't need anyone. That's what I told myself. I didn't want anyone."

Raphael looks dejected as he tells his story, and Simon can take it. He leans his head on the side of the tub and presses a kiss to the others hand.

"Did you imagine you'd spend the rest of your life alone?" He asks, curious. 

"Yes," is Raphael's instant reply, and Simon feels his heart break a little for him. 

"I can't begin to understand what that must feel like," he mutters, just a few octaves lower than disbelief. 

Raphael tilts his head then, and he looks just as disbelieving as he feels.

"You always knew you would find someone?" The other asks softly, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. 

"Always," he replies strongly, and with feeling. He always knew he'd find the one eventually, he just had to be patient. He just had to wait.

"I can't imagine what that must feel like," Raphael responds, and they both lull back into silence, simply listening to each other breathing.

\---

"I'd like to try again" is what Raphael says to him an hour later, standing up with a determined look on his face.

"We don't have to," Simon instantly reassures him, raising his palms calmly. He's not about to force Raphael into something he truly doesn't want and fuck this whole thing up.

Surprisingly, the others face falls slightly.

"You don't want...?" The man asks, his cheeks aflame and his eyes wide in embarrassment.

Instantly Simon is across the bed and in front of the other, shaking his head.

"No, I do want. I'm just saying we can wait" he replies softly, smiling slightly to let the other know that he has the final decision- whether they do or don't is up to him. 

Raphael is silent for a moment, before he reaches out and takes his hand, gripping it tightly.

"I've waited long enough," the researcher says lowly, and Simons not sure who moves first, but then they're kissing.

This time everyone goes without a problem.

\---

"You excited that you two are gonna meet? I should've organised it sooner!" Simon rambles nervously, fiddling with his napkin and turning back to Magnus who's sitting across the table.

"A month or two, I could understand. I've not been single long enough that I can't remember what it's like to be smitten. But eight months ? In a fully confirmed relationship? Your failure to introduce us feels wilful, Scott" Magnus rants, crossing his arms over his chest.

He winces. The other hasn't called him the wrong name in years. He must be pissed.

"Sorry" he mutters apologetically, taking a sip of his drink and turning to watch the woman performing on the little stage. It's not that he's purposely kept Raphael from Magnus, it's just that every time he tries to arrange something the researcher is at work or sleeping. He only really likes coming out a night and that's the time Magnus is normally at clubs or jumping around London with only God knows who.

The bell at the door rings indicating that someone's arrived, and he stands, smiling when he see's Raphael walking towards them. He's wearing his blue suit- his best suit- so he must be more nervous that he's letting on.

"Magnus, this is Raphael," he blurts, quite unnecessarily, standing so he can place a kiss of the others cheek in greeting. He gets a smile on response. 

"Raphael, tell me... What did you make of her? Too much? That doesn't surprise me. Danny's always preferred his men to be as straight as possible - a tedious form of self-loathing - that I've unsuccessfully tried to wean him off," Magnus interjects then suddenly, and Simon splutters. 

"Magnus, I was telling Raphael--" he tries, and he knows he needs to get this under control quick before his friend divulges things he'd rather not be divulge. But looking at Magnus, with his sharp eyes and clenched jaw, he knows things are about to spiral very fast. All he can do it try and contain his reactions.

"I hope you told him this is where we first met? You must be wondering how a glittery queer like me ended up friends with a handsome man like him? Nineteen ears old, he walked through that door. As lost as a person could be. I saw him, in his tatty jeans, with his cropped hair, and his puppy dog eyes. I could guess his sad story, without hearing a word! I presumed, if I bought him a drink, there wouldn't be a single second, when he wasn't hoping for someone better to come along. What can I say? I'm a soft touch. So I bought him that drink... And to my surprise, he talked to me for the whole night. He didn't leave, even when others stalked him. A small gesture, but it meant a great deal, and we have been friends ever since. I'm the one he comes to when times are tough. And they often are. Poor Simon has a terrible track record for picking the wrong man. He's an insufferable romantic! One of the last. Does it fall to me to say... Don't break his heart?"

That is not at all what Simon was expecting, and it must show on his face. Both Magnus and Raphael are looking at him and he clears his throat, momentarily overwhelmed with affection for Magnus. He doesn't know what he'd do without him.

"I could never hurt Simon," Raphael replies instantly, his voice so sure that it brings a tear to his eye. He reaches out to grab the others hand under the table and they smile at each other.

"May I ask - as someone who has been witness to the breaking of many a heart - how you can be so sure?" Magnus asks, his gaze sharp with a cat like concentration. This question is important to him. 

There's a moment where no one speaks, and Simon looks up to gauge Raphael's expression. But the others eyes aren't fixated on him anymore, they're fixated on Magnus. 

"Because he is the only friend I have," his partner answers seriously, his tone full of conviction. Simon knows it's the truth. In the eight months that he's known Raphael, he's never once met one of his friends. At first it was because he assumed the other was embarrassed of him, but then he realised the other simply didn't have anyone for him to introduce him to.

Magnus nods, and a smile works at the corners of his mouth. Simon deflates in relief- Raphael has passed the test.

"I'm pleased for you. I'm pleased for both of you," his friend tells them honestly, blinking his too long lashes at them and then summoning the waiter.

The rest of dinner goes swimmingly.

\---

"Had you two met before?" Simon asks whilst they're in bed later on that night. Raphael is lying down, propped up on his elbows to watch him, and he's sitting by the others feet, his knees curled up to his chest. 

"No," his lover answered, shaking his head.

"You know Magnus asked if you knew how I became his friend?" He begins, and suddenly it's important he gets this out. He's been carrying this secret for so long, and he can't stand it anymore. There's no secrets between himself and Raphael.

"You don't need to tell me," Raphael replies instantly, his lips quirking up into a soft smile- reassuring. 

"I love you" he adds, and Simon swallows thickly, his eyes welling up.

"And I need you to know. I was nineteen. Like he said. It was a bad time. My friend Clary and I had joined a band. I got into the wrong crowd, she never. I left home. I was doin' a lot of drugs. And one night... I was wired. Not happy. Not high. I was numb. And I posted an ad online, saying that anyone could come round. I mean anyone. My only condition was that they didn't speak. And people showed up. I didn't turn them away. I didn't ask anything of them. And they must have thought their luck was in, because they didn't make a sound. And the next day, I couldn't stop cryin'. And I went to see Magnus. I didn't know him very well, I'd only met him a couple of times, but he was the only person I could trust. And he took me straight to the hospital. I was put on a course of PEP, which is emergency medication. I was on the drugs for 28 days and Magnus looked after me. And 16 weeks later I had an HIV test, and I was clear!" He trails off as an sob claws it's way out of his throat.

"We were friends. I've never done anything like that again. I swear I was out of my mind. I'm always safe. Always! I don't know what happened to me that night. I look back; I don't recognize that person. And I've never cheated on you. I don't want to have any secrets from you. I never want to have any secrets ever again."

By the end of his confession he's crying in earnest, but he feels lighter than he has in months. He looks up and Raphael looks close to tears himself. His lover extends his arms and he falls into them, and together they both drift off into a sound sleep.

\---

"Let's go away for the weekend" Simon says excitably the next morning as he busies himself with making breakfast. Raphael normally doesn't stay for long- he prefers to eat in his own house- but they had slept in.

"Sure," Raphael replies, before he frowns.

"Actually I have to buy a battery for my laptop. I can't go without replacing it first" he adds a moment later, truly looking apologetic.

Simon smiles.

"I understand," he says softly, standing on his tip toes to quickly press a kiss to the others lips as he passes with their breakfast.

\---

"Has Raphael called for me? Has Raphael called?!" He shouts upon entry to Magnus's apartment, feeling desperate and sad and on the edge of tears.

"How long?" Magnus asks instantly, appearing from his bedroom in a blue robe, his face completely free of makeup. He'd feel guilt about disturbing him if he wasn't so damn wound up. 

He sighs then and deflates, running a hand through his messy hair. 

"11 days," he answers dejectedly, and Magnus hisses. 

"What happened?" The other asks, and Simon swallows thickly.

"I told him--

"That you loved him?"

" .. how you and I became friends." He finishes, ignoring the interruption. Himself and Raphael have already told each other that they love one another- that's not the reason his lover has apparently ran away. 

"That was a mistake!" Magnus declares sharply, his eyes narrowed as he shakes his head. He looks angry, but Simon knows it's not at him. 

"Why didn't I shut my mouth?!" He wails despairingly, throwing himself down onto the sofa and hiding his face in his hands. He shares a lot with Magnus, and the other has seen him at his very lowest, but he doesn't want his friend to see him cry right now. 

"Because you needed to know," Magnus says softly, sighing heavily.

"I fucked it up. I... I'd fucked it up before I'd even met him," he responds miserably, his words muffled slightly by his palms.

The sofa dips beside him that declares Magnus's arrival, and he leans into him, resting his head on the others shoulder.

"Have you tried everything?" Magnus asks, and he nods. He had. He's tried phoning Raphael, he's tried his floor at the hotel, he's tried the others usual jogging route. Nothing.

"There is only one thing left to do: accept that it is over." The smaller man concluded sensibly, and Simon almost gives himself whiplash pulling his head out of his hands.

"I can't" he whines desperately, shaking his head. He's never been so in love with someone in his life, he's never been so sure he's met his soulmate before now. He can't through it all away, there has to be something else he can do. 

"What other choice do you have? You'll get over it. Not quickly. Not completely. There's enough to carry on, trust me on that! But now, I am afraid, you'll have to excuse me. I have stuff to do!" 

And with that the other man stands, patting his shoulder before making his way back over to the bedroom.

"You want me to leave?" He calls after him in surprise, his mouth handing open.

"I'd never ask you to leave! Rest here. Sleep. Eat. But today, I can't play assistant to your personal life. Just out of curiosity... Did you ever wonder what I might want?" Magnus asks, and Simon deflates.

He hadn't even thought about that. 

"No. I'm sorry" he says softly, wincing. He's been so caught up in his own problems that he hasn't even considered Magnus's. He's an awful friend.

The smaller man smiles softly and sighs.

"It's okay, Biscuit. Alexander is over" he explains before disappearing back into the bedroom, and Simon deflates even further. He's interrupted Magnus's date.

He manages to last another couple of minutes before he gets up and leaves. He can wallow in self pity in his own flat.

 

\---

A box of keys turn up at his flat a few days later. He stares at them for a few moments, utterly confused. There's no note with the package, no indication of what they're for. Nothing.

Call it intuition but something tells him they're for Raphael's apartment. He's not sure what they are, but an excitement begins to develop in the pit of his stomach.

Raphael would have to be the one to give him the keys, right? Which means he's still around.

With a spring in his step he practically runs to the hotel DuMort, throwing the front entrance open and quickly making his way up the staircase. Upon arrival to Raphael's rooms he takes out the keys, fitting the larger one into the lock and turning.

The door clicks open and Simon steps in, scanning the room. He sees nothing.

"Raphael?" He calls, confused. There's no answer.

Slowly he makes his way further into the room, his unease growing as the moments pass. The entire place looks untouched- there's a thin layer of dust settling over everything- and there are no lights on.

Frowning he spins on his heels, running a hand through his hair. He simply stands for a moment, considering his options. 

Then he hears it.

A instant dripping coming from his left. He turns and stares at it, observing the leak. The redish water has came through the ceiling above and soaked the carpet below. He follows the water stain and is surprised when he finds a hatch just above his head. He's never seen it before, and Raphael's never mentioned it.

Slowly he pulls the string attached to the trap door and pulls, effectively opening the entrance and extending the ladder. 

"Raphael?" He asks again as he climbs the ladder, peaking into the apparent secret room.

It's spacious, but bare. The only furniture in the room is a bed and a large wardrobe, sitting parallel on the floor.

Curious, Simon walks over, first coming to a stop at the bed. It's clearly never been slept in- the sheets are too nearly pressed. Kneeling he looks under it, and sucks in a breath when he finds a music box. He pulls it out from under the frame and places it on the mattress. Upon opening it he's assaulted with a loud, tinkering tune and he almost slams it shut again. But before he can the needles in front of him attract his intention. He picks up one, observing it. It's got a long point- obviously used for taking blood- and is clean. 

Frowning at that he places it back down again, and opens another compartment. In that one is a bag of white powder and a bottle of pills. With shaking hands he extends a finger and tips it into the bag, taking a little of the substance and tasting it. As suspected, he identifies it as cocaine. 

Which doesn't make any sense. Raphael didn't do drugs, he knows this because the other would squirm every time he did something as much as smoke. So there was no way in hell his lover was secretly snorting crack and popping pills.

Done with this particular item he closes the music box and puts it back in its place, his trepidation growing as he stands and makes his way over the the wardrobe.

Before he opens it he pauses momentarily, takes a steadying breath, and pulls the doors open. 

He's immediately insulted with bags upon bags of blood, all falling towards the floor with a sickening sloshing noise.

Startled Simon steps back, his heart racing. There must be close to a hundred bags stuffed in the large wooden box, all filled to the brim with Crimson liquid.

Realistically he knows that this is what Raphael's job is- he is a blood researcher after all. But this- this is excessive.

Feeling sick to his stomach he steps away from the wardrobe, spinning on his heels again. 

Finally he spots the suitcase in the corner, and his eyebrows crease. It doesn't fit in with the decor of the room, it's too old fashioned.

Slowly he walks towards it, so fixated on the item that he doesn't notice he's stepped in blood until his foot slides.

He screams and takes a few steps back, his heart racing. 

He suddenly doesn't want to know what's in the suitcase anymore.

But his curiosity wins out and he reaches forward and undo's the clips, jumping backwards as the contents spill out.

Raphael's blank eyes stare back at him, a wooden stake sticking straight out of his heart. 

All air escapes him and he screams and he screams, stumbling over the bed and falling off the other side. 

He gets up and runs down the stairs, dials 999 and then immediately hangs up when he realises he's just touched everything in a murder scene.

Quickly he makes his way back up into the secret room, pulling his sleeves over his arms and rubbing over everything he's touched. As he works he makes sure not to look at his lover, because he thinks he might just lie on the floor and join him if he does.

Once he's sure there's none of his prints left he makes his way back down and calls the police.

The time in between his phone call and the police's arrival feels like an eternity, and his entire body feels numb. Twice already he's ran into the bathroom to vomit, and tears fall freely from his eyes.

He's lost him. He's lost the love of his life.

He hears no sounds until loud knocking startles him. Slowly, he turns to the door, intending to open it. But out of the corner of his eyes he see's something sparkly which catches his eyes.

Instead he walks towards it, sniffing slightly. When he finally reaches the object he almost starts sobbing again. The item is placed in a black velvet box, lined with red silk. And on the lid is his name, written in Raphael's looping cursive. Swallowing thickly he picks it up and carefully pulls a silver necklace from it, attached to a red ruby. Engraved into the metal is the words 'Amor verus numquam moritur.'

Raphael had told him once what it means. True love never dies.

"Can you open up please?" A officer from outside shouts and he starts, forgetting where he is. Quickly he puts the necklace around his neck and shoves the box into a random drawer, wiping his tears away as he opens the door.

Immediately the place is swarmed with officers and Simon steps aside, staring at nothing in particular. 

A few moments later a policeman comes up at his shoulder and gently urges him forward. 

"Please come with me, sir" the man says plainly, and he propels them into walking.

Simon goes without a word.  
\---

"His name's Raphael Garroway. He's my partner. It's his housing. He disappeared two weeks ago," Simon manages. By now he's stopped crying, but his chest is still heaving and his eyes are still stinging with unshed tears. 

"Do you think it might not be him?" He asks pleadingly after a moment, and is met with unimpressed looks.

"Tell me what you know about... Raphael," the woman- Isabelle- says, crossing her arms and leaning towards him. Beside her is Clary's boyfriend Jace. Apparently his friend had failed to mention her boyfriend worked for a secret police department.

"He's a genius. He went to university at the age of fifteen. He's got no family. His parents are dead. Em... He works for a blood research facility. What else do you need to know?" He answers shakily, taking a sip of his tea with trembling hands.

The two in front of him share a look, and a photo of his partner is pushed towards him. He almost cries again upon sight of it.

"Do you know this man?" Jace asks, and Simon nods. 

"That's... This is Raphael" he responds lowly, taking the photo and holding it in his hand. It's a basic head shot and his lover isn't smiling, but it's shows everything he loves about the man. His dark eyes, his hair, his strong jaw.

"Your partner?" Isabelle adds then, and two share another look.

"Yeah."

"What kind of relationship did you have with him? Did it involve blood draining? Drugs?"

Simon physically recoils at that.

"What? No!" He shouts, startled. He had to idea where that question even came from but it leaves him reeling.

"You see, It's hard for me to believe you were in a serious relationship, when you don't even know his full name. This man is called Raphael Santiago. His parents are alive. He did not work for a research facility. Is it possible... you enjoyed the feeling of extracting someone else's blood with someone who didn't want you to know their name? Is it possible?" The woman asks, and Simon feels so overwhelmed that he can't respond. His throat feels like it's closed off and he gasps, pushing back his seat and standing, barely hearing when it clatters to the ground.

His mind desperately searches for a reply that isn't 'fuck you, you sad bitch' when the door swings open and Magnus and Alec walk in, the former immediately coming to his side upon entry.

"This will stop. Right now," the other demands firmly, and he barely has time to process it before he passes out into the man's unsuspecting arms.

 

\---

"He lied. About everything," Simon mutters hollowly from where he's sitting, lifting his head from his knees just enough to look at his closest friend. Magnus had sorted everything at the institute, and Alec Lightwood himself had lifted his unconscious body out of the building for them. He was now in Magnus's apartment, curled up on the sofa and feeling entirely numb. 

"When you introduced us..." The other begins, and Simon snaps his gaze towards him.

"You knew?" He whispered, his eyes welling up again. If Magnus knew all this time and hadn't told him..

"Not exactly. Our paths had never crossed. But I recognise the type. I see them in the pandemonium. People with secrets. Their importnce emanates from them. I felt it. He never worked for a blood research facility, even though blood is involved. He's a vampire, Simon. That's why he never came out during the day, that's why he didn't like to eat a lot. I know this must be a lot for you to take in, but it's the truth. You deserve it, after all this time."

The more Magnus speaks, the more Simon feels like he's lost at sea with no hope of return. None of this makes any sense. A vampire? Ridiculous.

But the more he thinks about it, the more everything begins to click. He had always wondered why Raphael never seemed to have an appetite, and why he always flinched when Simon tried to open the curtains, or why he didn't like staying unless they were going to stay in all day.

There's so much for them to talk about, so many questions he has, and he can't even ask them anymore.

Magnus clearing his throat is what attracts his attention back to the present and he fixes his gaze back onto his friend, sighing tiredly.

"Er Simon? The Lightwoods were concerned you might've taken something from the crime scene. A personal item? Something of sentimental value? You wouldn't have done that, would you?" Magnus asks, searching his face for answers.

He not going to get them. Simons given up enough recently.

"Course not," he answers dryly, thinking about the necklace around his neck hidden under his clothes. Raphael had told him once that he was working on something revolutionary, that when he finished it he'd give it to Simon so he'd always remember him. Deep down he knows this pendant is the revolutionary item, and he's not going to hand it over when even he doesn't know what it does.

"No. Course not," Magnus parrots, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Simon can't find the energy to care. The Jewel around his neck is the only chance to find answers, his only change to get justice for the love of his life.

And they can be damned if they think they can take that from him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> If you guys like this, I've considered writing a fix it sequel. What do you's think?
> 
> Obviously I had to change some things, so the necklace= the code breaker. Just like Alex found the formal to detect lies, Raphael found the formula to detect demons. And the demons don't like that, not at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Yet again, I'll apologise is this is littered with mistakes. I don't have a beta so *shrug*


End file.
